


A Thousand Paper Cranes

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-25
Updated: 2007-03-25
Packaged: 2019-01-19 03:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12402054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: It is midnight, and by the light of his weakly cast "Lumos", Neville folds his thousandth paper crane.





	A Thousand Paper Cranes

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related material are not mine.

It is midnight, and by the light of his weak “ _Lumos_ ”, cast by a stolen wand, a chubby boy clad in striped pyjamas and slippers sits at an old wooden his desk.  His hands expertly fold a slightly crumpled bubblegum wrapper: folding the corner diagonally, sharply creasing the odd material, moving in a practised sequence.  His forehead wrinkles as he focuses intently at the task at hand.  The wax coated paper is still marked with the pink, sticky remnants of the substance it once enclosed.

The old floorboards creak under the slight movement of his chair, and he jumps, cringing at the sound.  He knows he must not make a sound, for his Gran must not wake.  If she was to it would be the end of his night time occupation.  He knows what she would say, as she towered above him.  She would tell him not to be silly, that there was no truth in such silly legends, that they were false.  Later, if he was to follow the desperate, muffled sobs to his Gran’s room, and peek through the slight gap between the door and the wall, he would see her kneeling on the floor, clutching at an old, faded crimson jumper, upon which wet patches were starting to appear from the steady stream of tears that were rolling down her cheeks. Even later still, if he was to creep up the stairs when Gran turned on the wireless after dinner, as she did every evening, he would softly turn the knob of the door that lead to Gran’s room, hoping with all his might that it would not squeak.  There, in the antique bedside table, if he was to pull out the drawer, would he find the jumper, and if he pulled it out and looked at the tag, he would see marked in his Gran’s precise handwriting: Frank Longbottom.

He unfolds the wrapper and folds it again in the other direction.  He doesn’t like to see his Gran cry.  That’s why he is doing this: to make his Gran happy again.  She doesn’t smile, and that makes him sad.  He thinks that there is only one thing that makes people truly happy, and that is family.  Maybe if Gran gets her family back, she will smile again.  The Weasleys smile lots, and they have seven children.  When he goes over there to play when Gran has adult business to sort out, they always play and laugh and seem so happy.  They run around barefoot, play Quidditch on toy brooms, and go swimming in the pond outside their house.  He isn’t allowed to run around without his shoes on, and he doesn’t know how to fly or swim.  Maybe when Gran is happy again, and his Mummy and Daddy are better, his Daddy can teach him to swim and fly a broom, and his Mummy can run him a bath when he’s dirty and his feet are black from running around outside.

The gum wrapper lies in a diamond shape on the desk.  He remembers once seeing a velvet jewellery box, and inside were a pair of big sparkly diamond earrings.  Gran had told him that they were Mummy’s, and Daddy had bought them for her when he was born.  He hopes that when Mummy is better she gets another pair of diamond earrings, because he would like a little brother, or even a baby sister.  He’s very lonely sometimes.  It’s mostly just him and his Gran. Ron always complains about Percy, or the twins, and little Ginny when he goes round there, but _he_ doesn’t mind Percy being priggish, or the twin’s tricks, or Ginny wanting to tag along.  At least Ron has someone to play with.  Sometimes he wishes he was Ron.

Other times he wishes he was like Harry Potter.  Gran tells him bedtime stories about the little boy who was so powerful, that when he was only a baby, he defeated the most evil wizard ever.  Maybe if he was Harry Potter he wouldn’t be so boring, and Gran would be happier, because Harry Potter was so special that everyone loved him, and every Halloween people remembered him, and made a toast.  He is even allowed to have a sip of Gran’s special wine then.  He thinks that Harry Potter is the luckiest boy alive.

The gum wrapper jerks as he pinches the paper, making a triangle shape at the front of the figure.  His thumb presses the papermaking a neat, deep crease that will hold strong.

It is midnight, and by the light of his weak “ _Lumos_ ”, cast by a stolen wand, Neville folds his thousandth paper crane. 


End file.
